Windmill
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: A birthday gift for meetmeinstlouie! Older Chelsie in a post-canon world, with new characters ... and a resolution of sorts. Song inspiration: "Quarter Moon," by Cheryl Wheeler I hope you have a wonderful day, dear! xxx


**A/N: A birthday gift for my beloved friend (see what I did there?), meetmeinstlouie. I had this idea a while back, she wanted to know all about it, and I put her off because HELLO BIRTHDAY FIC. I hope it brings you joy, dear. Have a wonderful day!**

 **{big long-distance hugs}**

 **CSotA**

 **Song inspiration: "Quarter Moon," by Cheryl Wheeler**

 **It's on my Spotify (which is free). Just look for Username: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey and it's on my "Chelsie Potpourri" playlist. x**

* * *

The afternoon was sunny and bright, the warm air the sort that reminds everyone that spring had, indeed, become summer, with gentle breezes that make one smile. It was just after midday, and the sun was peeking through the trees behind a small cottage where, on the back step, a young woman – named Aileen – was sitting with a cup of tea and watching her husband make a small repair to the stone wall that separated their property from that of their neighbors.

As he finished the repair and stood slowly, her husband stretched. He then turned to smile at Aileen, who returned the gesture and got up as he approached her. He drew her into his arms and dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping back a bit and admiring how the sunlight bounced off her long, auburn tresses. Aileen laughed when she saw the soppy expression on his face, and she took the opportunity to steal a longer, deeper kiss.

"The wall looks good, Jack," she said when they broke apart. "I'm sure they'll be most appreciative."

"Oh, it was nothing. The least we could do, really. We couldn't ask for better neighbors, I don't think."

As he was speaking, a screen door slammed in the distance, and Jack and his wife turned to see the source of the noise, both smiling once again as the very neighbors about whom they'd just been speaking exited their own home.

"Have you ever noticed how he looks at her?" Jack asked his wife quietly. "He always pats her hand when she tucks it into his elbow, and he has this look on his face of sheer wonder, as though he can't possibly fathom that she's really there."

"I have," she replied. "You look at me the same way, you know."

"And I hope I always do, love," he murmured.

Jack and Aileen, still newlyweds, had moved to Brouncker Road just eleven months prior. Their wedding had been a small one, and after a week of traveling down the coastline, they'd moved into the small, white cottage where they now resided. The purchase of it had been a heavy consideration for them both given the war and their young ages (he only twenty-five and she four years younger at the time), but they'd agreed that a home was a solid investment. Jack wouldn't be heading off to fight, not with the limp he'd had since he was eight and had fallen from a tree in his backyard, and Aileen had been anxious that they start a family of their own sooner rather than later. His parents were both dead, she'd not heard from her Mum since they'd fallen out over the wedding, and she and Jack had both felt that the time was right to move off in a new direction. Jack's work as a mason was sporadic, but it paid well when he was busy, and with Aileen helping out at the schoolhouse a couple of days a week as a secretary, they were able to live a simple, comfortable life.

It had been on the second day of moving in that the young couple had made the acquaintance of the Carsons, the lovely couple who owned the property next door. Mrs. Carson – Elsie, as she'd insisted Aileen call her – had arrived with a glorious apple tart to offer and congratulations from both her and her husband. Elsie's blue eyes had sparkled with kindness and what Aileen had recognized as a bit of mischief, and the women had been instant friends. Jack had taken a bit longer to warm up to Mr. Carson, a sometimes curmudgeonly man who spoke little but noticed much. But with the women, the friendship had been instant and easy. Aileen observed after a while that Elsie, while social, shared very few personal details about her life, but that suited Aileen just fine.

The day after Jack finished repairing the wall, a knock sounded at their back door. Aileen put down the last of her laundry and answered it, happy to see Mr. Carson on the step.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carson," she said warmly.

"Good afternoon, Aileen. I just wanted to verify our plans for tomorrow." He remained on the back step, as Aileen had known he would.

"We'll arrive at your place at ten o'clock sharp, as always," she said with a grin. "You'll be heading north after church, and we have kitten duty. 'Arrive hungry, because Elsie always leaves a warm treat resting atop the stove,' just like always."

"Precisely. And it'll be scones tomorrow, I think," he replied with a wink. "Thank you. We won't be back late."

"You never are, Mr. Carson. Don't worry. Little Scout will have his dinner _and_ some extra play time with Jack and me. We have a brand-new toy mouse to surprise him with and everything. And dinner will be ready when you return."

"Well, that's very kind of you. We'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and please thank Jack for repairing the wall. It would have been too much for me."

"You're more than welcome, you know that. It took him all of twenty minutes. Any time you two need something, you know where to call."

The older man nodded. "Good day, Aileen."

"Good day, Mr. Carson." She closed the door behind him with a soft chuckle. While she had no trouble calling his wife 'Elsie,' somehow neither she nor Jack could manage to address her husband by 'Charles.'

oOoOoOo

"Charlie, we'll be late!"

Elsie stood at the bottom of the stairs, a cardigan draped over her arm and her handbag clutched in one hand. She heard her husband's rushed footsteps … and then the small crash of something hitting the floor in the bathroom.

 _Thank goodness for plastic,_ Elsie thought, knowing full well that the sound she'd heard had been the small cup falling off the bathroom counter. She cursed herself for her impatience, and no sooner had she taken a deep, calming breath than her husband emerged and descended the stairs.

"All ready," he declared, rubbing his hands together. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Don't be," Elsie replied, reaching up to tighten the knot of his tie. She smoothed the rest of it down, allowing her hand to rest over his heart for just a moment.

"Presentable?" Charles asked, and she nodded. "Good. Off we go, then."

"Would you like me to drive today, dear?"

"I'm fine now," he reassured her. "At least, I'm fine to drive the two kilometers to church. I promise if I don't feel well afterwards, then I'll let you drive to the coast." He raised his bushy, mostly-white eyebrows, and his wife chuckled.

"You certainly will," she replied, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss his chin.

As it happened, Charles was fine to drive to the coast as well. They even arrived a bit ahead of schedule, allowing them to have a leisurely fish and chips luncheon at their favorite restaurant. It had been the Carsons' first-Sunday-of-the-month ritual for the past three or so years: they'd go to church, then skip fellowship in favor of a drive up north, a quiet lunch, and an afternoon spent poking around various antique and gift shops. Their destination was generally the same, but once in a while they'd drive farther north, or perhaps not quite as far if they were tired. After over fifteen years of retirement, Elsie and Charles had come to the conclusion that as much as they enjoyed being together at home, they loved getting away from their fairly routine life just as much. Aileen and Jack only made that easier with their willingness to check in on Scout and feed him his dinner.

"What do you think, love? Anything catch your eye?" Charles asked. It was a soft question, murmured in his wife's ear as they stood in one of their favorite shops, and she leaned infinitesimally back and into his strong, solid frame.

"I think the windmill, don't you? It'll be wonderful in Shu's garden."

"Well," he said, reaching for the wooden windmill to bring it to the cashier, "how can I argue with that?"

"Will you help me to paint it?" she asked, and he nodded.

oOoOoOo

Elsie ended up driving home later that afternoon. As she put the car in park, she reminded herself to add an extra prayer at church next week for Tom Branson, who'd insisted Elsie learn how to drive the car when he taught Charles. She'd been resistant to the idea, which was somewhat unlike her normally modernist nature. But after Lady Hexham had gently prodded her as well, reminding Elsie that women had been learning to drive vehicles for decades, Elsie had agreed. Even Charles had seen the benefit of it in the end, and it simply became one more part of their married life that sometimes, when Charles's hands were trembling and his anxiety was a bit high, Elsie could step in and make sure they arrived safely wherever they had to be.

Scout came tearing out of the house at the sound of the car, and as Charles crouched down on the walkway, the kitten jumped into his arms, purring loudly as he snuggled in underneath his Da's chin.

"Any thoughts that Scout is _our_ cat have surely been thrown aside now!" Elsie laughed. She placed her hand at Charlie's back and rubbed it lovingly before giving Scout a scratch behind the ears.

"Home safe and sound, I see!" Jack called from the doorway. He walked quickly to them, relieving Elsie of the rather large windmill she was carrying. "Ohh, this one's lovely, Elsie. What color will you paint it?"

Elsie gave a wry smile in return. "We just argued about that for half the ride home."

"We _discussed_ it," Charles corrected, putting the cat down and shaking Jack's hand. "I think my suggestion of a dark red color would have looked very nice in the garden, but I am certain that, come tomorrow, it will be green paint on my brush instead."

Jack glanced over at the area where he knew the windmill was going to end up. "A darker green will be nice," he said quietly. "Perhaps some dark red to contrast it here," he added, pointing to a small trim piece on the windmill, "and here … and here at the center, too?"

Charles, looking quite pleased, readily agreed.

"Where's Aileen?" Elsie enquired.

"She's putting the finishing touches on dinner, I think."

Charles sniffed the air, looking much like Scout had moments before and making both Jack and Elsie laugh. "Roast chicken?"

Elsie patted his stomach. "I can always count on you, love."

Dinner was remarkable. Aileen was quite an accomplished cook, and as the four of them sat at the table, Charles was sure to compliment her.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I really do enjoy cooking, and your kitchen is much bigger than ours, so it's a joy to prepare these monthly dinners."

They chatted about unimportant things over their meal, simply enjoying one another's company. Elsie and Charles didn't often have guests anymore, and Jack and Aileen were almost like the grandchildren they never had. They loved the Bateses' children, of course, but since John and Anna had moved away nearly ten years ago, they rarely saw them.

While Elsie and Aileen cleared the dishes, Charles and Jack headed into the parlour, where Charles poured a small measure of brandy into each of four snifters. His hands shook a bit on the third and fourth one, but Jack wordlessly reached out to hold the base of the bottle, shushing Charles's self-admonition at not being able to pour anything anymore.

"It's all fine, Mr. Carson," the younger man said softly. "Everyone struggles with one thing or another now and again."

"But you weren't a butler in your last life," Charles responded with a sad chuckle.

"What's all this, now?" Elsie asked as she and Aileen joined the men.

"Mr. Carson was just trying to convince me he'd been a _butler_ in a former life," Jack said with a laugh.

"Well, of course he was, and the best in all of England at that!" Elsie replied. "I'm certain we've told you all that, dear."

Jack and Aileen stared at her, Jack openmouthed and Aileen with her brow furrowed.

"Erm, no," Jack said slowly. "You haven't. Are you being serious?"

"Quite," Charles nodded. "Although I'd hesitate to say that I was the best around."

"Well, Lord Grantham certainly thinks so," Elsie argued gently. "As did the Dowager, God rest her soul."

At that, Aileen's face blanched. Jack noticed and took her hand, leading her to the sofa and helping her to sit down.

"What is it, love? You look as if you've seen a ghost," Jack said, but Aileen just shook her head and turned her gaze toward Elsie, looking _very_ closely at this woman who'd been her neighbor for nearly a year. She wondered …

 _No. It can't possibly be …_

Except it _could_.

A look at Elsie's husband, through a slightly different lens now, was all Aileen needed. She knew instantly that she was right, but she couldn't manage to speak.

Elsie noticed. "Here, take a sip of this," she instructed, reaching for one of the two unclaimed snifters and placing it in the younger woman's hand. "You must've taken a turn. We shouldn't have kept you so late …"

Lifting the snifter with a shaking hand, Aileen took a long sip and grimaced as it burned going down.

"If you were a butler, you must tell us all about it, Mr. Carson," Jack said, wanting to lighten the mood until his wife managed to stop shaking. "I've always wondered what life was like in the big houses back then, before they all closed up. Elsie mentioned Lord Grantham. Wasn't he the Earl at Downton, just up the road?"

"He _is_ the Earl, yes," Charles corrected, and the fondness on his face spoke volumes to Jack.

"He's a very kind man," Elsie said. "And he was a good employer. We were very lucky, indeed. Of course, life is different now, isn't it?" She reached to squeeze Charles's arm, a rare sign of affection in front of company. But their years seemed to be getting shorter, and Elsie cared less about propriety than she used to.

"Wait," Jack interjected. "You were _both_ employed there?" He looked at Elsie, who nodded. "Were you a maid, Mrs. Carson?"

"No," Aileen whispered from the couch. "She was the housekeeper, Jack." She was staring into her glass, swirling the amber liquid, but she felt everyone's eyes on her nonetheless. They were silent, mouths agape, and she finally looked up and met Elsie's eyes once again. "Isn't that right?"

Elsie swallowed, unsure of how, exactly, Aileen knew that. "I was," she said steadily. "You'll forgive me, but I feel that was more than a lucky guess, and I'd love to know how _you_ knew."

Charles and Jack looked at one another, completely confused.

But Aileen said nothing.

"Clearly, Aileen has had a bit of a shock," Elsie said, "although I'm not certain as to _why._ Mr. Carson and I used to work at Downton Abbey, yes. We were in service there for many years. It's where we met." She shook her head. "Are you _sure_ we've not mentioned this before?"

Jack thought for a moment. "I knew Mr. Carson had been in service a long time ago," he replied thoughtfully, "but not you. I believe he only mentioned his own career once in passing, but the conversation shifted and I must've forgotten about it. And I certainly didn't know that he'd been _butler!"_ He looked to Charles, who was still standing completely dumbfounded, a forgotten snifter clutched tightly in his hand. "That's quite impressive, indeed!"

Elsie sighed, but she took a seat in the chair facing the sofa, waiting for Aileen to ask a question or make a statement that would explain her apparent shock. Charles moved to sit beside his wife, and Jack took the spot next to Aileen, drawing her empty hand in his and squeezing hers gently.

"Darling? Why do you seem _upset_ by this? I don't understand."

Aileen, however, hadn't taken her eyes off of Elsie.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "It's just such a shock is all. We've lived next to you nearly a year, and I had no idea."

"Aileen," Charles asked, his voice remarkably calm. He'd figured most of it out, he thought, except for the crucial, missing detail. "Who _else_ did you know who worked at the Abbey?"

"My mother," she replied in a whisper, and she saw Elsie's blue eyes widen. "I can't believe it," Aileen said. "You're Mrs. Hughes - or you were, weren't you? The housekeeper."

"I believe we've established that," Elsie said with a half-smile. "I'm afraid you have a leg up on us though, dear. Who, exactly, is your mother? I have to say, the fact that I don't already know is rather discomfiting."

"You wouldn't remember her from Downton so much as from _after_ she left," Aileen said. She turned to Jack, and added in a whisper, "I'm so sorry I never told you."

"Never … What?" Jack was dumbfounded, not quite sure what she meant.

"About my mother. About … Oh, God, this is so hard."

And suddenly, the penny dropped for Elsie.

"Oh, my goodness." She looked at Aileen with new eyes now, examining the young woman's features, her coloring, her build. "Are you … Are you _Ethel's_ daughter?"

Everyone jumped when Charles's glass broke in his hand, the remaining brandy spilling onto his trousers.

"Oh, Charlie! Are you all right?" Elsie asked, jumping up and removing the glass from his hand. They shared a look, one that was seconds long but contained an entire conversation from what Jack and Aileen could tell, and Charles nodded.

"I'm fine. Barely a scratch, although I'm not sure how. I'll take that," he said, standing up and removing the pieces from Elsie's hands. "And then I think we have a bit of catching up to do here."

Charles disposed of the glass while the other three remained speechless in the parlour. When he returned, he took his place next to Elsie and reached for her hand, which she gave him willingly, surreptitiously reassuring herself he'd not been seriously cut.

"My Mum had left … had left _that_ part of her history behind before she had me," Aileen began. "She told me about it a few years ago, when I found a picture of Charlie in the back of the closet."

"Who's Charlie?" Jack asked.

"My brother," she replied. "Well, my half-brother. I never met him, never even _knew_ about him until I found that. She wasn't able to keep him, you see, and his grandparents adopted him."

"He was such a sweet little boy," Elsie said softly. "That entire situation broke my heart."

"And hers," Aileen replied. "Did you know that she heard from him a few years ago?"

Elsie's eyes widened. "I didn't. I've not spoken to your mother in quite some time, of course. I don't even think she knew that I married Charlie."

"I suppose not, now that I think of it. She definitely told me your name was 'Mrs. Hughes.' Anyhow, a few years after all that happened, she met my father, and he helped her to get her life together."

"That's wonderful," Elsie told her, and she truly meant it.

"She told me that he was a very kind man," Aileen said. "But he died when I was three. I have very few memories of him. Mum raised me on her own. She always told me how important it was for her to 'keep me.' I had no idea what that really meant until she told me about Charlie."

"My God, Aileen," Jack whispered. "Does she know where Charlie is now?"

Aileen shook her head. "No"

"Whatever happened to the Bryants?" Elsie asked.

"They died a couple of years ago," Aileen said. "Automobile accident. Charlie wrote to Mum to let her know, but her reply to him was returned."

"Wait," Jack said. "That's about when she moved to Ireland, isn't it?"

Aileen nodded, then smiled at Elsie.

"But she told me about you, Elsie. I never made the connection when we met, of course, because - as you said - your last name is Carson now. But she had such wonderful things to say about you."

"That surprises me, I must say," Elsie said tearfully. "It was _my_ fault she ended up in that horrible … situation ... in her life."

"No," Aileen said. "Not at all. You mustn't think that. She was very clear about it all. I mean, yes, you dismissed her from the Abbey, but then you took care of her."

"What's this?" Charles asked, but Elsie shushed him. They'd never discussed Ethel, but it was not the time for her to fill him in on all the sordid details.

"You brought them food, knit things for Charlie," Aileen went on. "Worked with that other woman, tried to get her back on her feet …"

"Mrs. Crawley," Elsie murmured. "Yes."

"Mum was so grateful to you, Elsie. You inspired her to get her _life_ back. It just … It just took her a bit longer than perhaps everyone wanted. But she got there in the end. I'm proof of that."

Elsie wiped at her eyes and nodded. "I guess you are. What a miracle that you showed up next door." She looked at Charles, who smiled lovingly at her, patting the back of her hand to comfort her. He knew they'd discuss it all later, when his wife was ready. Until then … well, Charles had learned something from being married all these years, and part of that involved when to press his wife on an issue … and when _not_ to.

oOoOoOo

The following afternoon was cloudy, but Elsie insisted that it was the perfect day to finish planting flowers in the garden. She and Charlie had painted the windmill the previous night after Aileen and Jack had gone home, and they'd set it in the garden that morning.

"The hot sun isn't so good when you're putting young plants in," she was telling Aileen. "The clouds will help, as will a spot of rain in the evening."

Aileen watched as Elsie knelt beside her, lowering herself carefully and holding onto Aileen's shoulder to steady herself.

"All right, Elsie?"

"I'm fine, dear," she answered. "How are _you?_ "

"I'll be all right. Jack and I had a long talk last night. He was hurt that I never told him about Charlie. But I felt like I couldn't. It's like it was Mum's secret for so long that I didn't feel I should tell anyone yet."

"I know just what you mean," Elsie said as she stared at the small garden spade in her hand.

 _Mum did say Mrs. Hughes was the keeper of Downton's secrets,_ Aileen thought. _Apparently she keeps her own, too._

Elsie dug a small hole for the marigold, then showed Aileen how to pat the soil around it.

"Firmly," she coached. "Don't be afraid of it. And you've loosened the roots, so they'll drink up the water more easily. Then the plants need some time to rest, and in a couple of days they'll be vibrant and healthy."

Aileen straightened part of the plastic fence around the small stone that read _Shu._ She adjusted the statue of St. Francis too, settling it a bit more securely in its spot.

"Shu was a gift from Lord Grantham," Elsie said suddenly. Her voice caught, but she forged ahead. "His Lordship decided, in his infinite wisdom, that Charles and I needed a four-month-old pup to keep us company in our retirement. As though a couple our age needed anything that energetic!"

"Well, I'd say he was right, from the stories I've heard about Shu," Aileen replied. "He sounds like he was a wonderful dog. I've always wondered about this … How did you choose his name?"

Elsie smiled fondly through her sadness. "It's Egyptian. Shu was the God of Light and Air. His fur was light in color, and he was light-hearted in personality. Everything Charlie _wasn't,_ which we got a great deal of laughter out of."

"Egyptian? That's … unique."

"Well," Elsie said, "it was kind of a tradition back then. With Lord Grantham's dogs, that is."

"They must get on well," Aileen observed, "for Lord Grantham to have passed along such a personal tradition to his butler."

"They do." Elsie smiled. "For many years, I think his Lordship was Charlie's only friend."

"Until you came along," Aileen said with a smirk.

"Until I came along," Elsie agreed. "And perhaps even for a couple of years _after_ I did. It took Charles and I quite a while to make our way to one another."

Aileen planted a couple more flowers, watering them as Elsie indicated. They worked for several quiet minutes before Aileen went to the spigot to fill the watering can. Elsie admired their work, her eyes filling with tears again as memories of Shu came to her mind. When Aileen returned, she gave Elsie a bit of time to compose herself.

"Jack and Mr. Carson spoke the other day about the land," Aileen said finally. "I've been meaning to discuss it with you, but it's not a very comfortable subject."

"Nonsense," Elsie replied.

"We've agreed that you'd be foolish to sell to us," Aileen told her plainly. "You're not asking what it's worth. Why not offer it elsewhere? You'd make twice as much."

Elsie sat back on her feet and sighed before reaching for Aileen's hand.

"We don't _want_ anyone else there, dear. We're asking what we need to be comfortable, and what we feel is fair given the amount of help you and Jack provide to us in our old age. We won't be here forever, dear, and you'll be having a family of your own soon. You'll like to have a bigger garden for the little ones to run around."

"Oh, stop. You've both got a great deal more time with us, I hope."

"Well, you may be right," Elsie said sagely. "But one day I will die, and so will he. Life will go on, Aileen, whether you want it to or not. Best we enjoy the time we have together while we can, hm?"

Aileen looked over at her, then impulsively reached over and gave her a hug.

"You're the closest thing to family that either of us have, you know."

"You've got your mother, Aileen, and that's important."

"Well, we had a fight over the wedding," Aileen admitted. "I've not heard from her since."

Elsie was silent for a moment. "Have you reached out to her?" she eventually asked.

"Last month," Aileen said, "but I've not heard back yet. It's not unusual; we don't have a terribly close relationship despite all the time we spent just the two of us. But you're here every day, you and Mr. Carson. You give us advice, and we all watch out for each other. To me, that's family too. So no more talk about dying, do you hear?"

Elsie looked at her young friend, at the raised eyebrow that she was certain the girl learned from her, and laughed.

"Right you are, dear," she said. "Now how about we pick up here? I believe Charlie put my apple tart in the oven. Should be ready to eat after dinner. Care to join us?"

"Not tonight, I don't think," Aileen said, standing and reaching to help Elsie up. "Jack and I have some talking to do."

Elsie stopped walking, and Aileen turned to face her.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Elsie asked. "I wondered the other day, but you'd not said anything."

Aileen smiled, and a tear fell down her cheek.

"I think I'm about seven weeks along," she said. "However did you guess?"

Elsie thought back over her years at Downton, remembering all the girls she'd encountered during that time, the young women upstairs _and_ down … Ladies Mary and Edith, dear Lady Sybil, Anna … and Ethel.

"Just a guess," she whispered with a wink.

Aileen tucked Elsie's hand into the crook of her elbow. "That's what I thought," she whispered back, and she placed a kiss on Elsie's cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" Elsie replied.

Aileen looked over at the houses, standing across a field from one another, with a small stone wall lying between.

"For everything."

oOoOoOo

Charles watched his wife from where he stood on the back patio. He saw her crouch down to pull some weed or other from Shu's garden, and he watched as she stood and reached heavenward with her arms, knowing that she was slowly stretching out her back so that she'd be able to sleep comfortably that night. Aging had taken them both by surprise once they'd settled into retirement, as the lack of daily physical activity had decreased so intensely. They often commented that, in that first year ( _So long ago now,_ he thought), they aged five.

The breeze picked up and a lock of her hair fluttered, and Charles felt a similar flutter in his heart. He often couldn't believe - _still_ \- the depth and breadth of his love for the woman standing a short distance away. It consumed him. It wasn't not the fiery consumption he'd so often felt in those first months and years of their marriage, but a slow burn now that had become multi-faceted in nature. He liked to think of it as a greater appreciation for what they had become _together,_ after having spent so many decades as _individuals_ despite the side-by-side nature of their relationship.

She looked back then, feeling his eyes on her. She didn't even need to call to him, and he felt no need to move. His penetrating gaze told her all he needed to say, and she tilted her head minutely to say she'd heard it all.

Elsie watched her husband carefully as she walked back to the patio, the weeds discarded into the compost pile along the way. As she approached him, she turned again to look at the sunset.

Charles wrapped his arms around his wife, resting his chin gently upon her head as they stared off into the distance. The view before them was gorgeous: bright, breeze-blown field of grass lit by the setting sun, mostly golden but with hues of orange and red and purple mingled in; small saplings growing in the spaces that were previously shaded by great, towering oaks, long since cut down for fuel; the sky alight with color, with wispy clouds and the occasional bird.

"Red skies," Charles observed. "Going to be beautiful tomorrow, I think. And the brook is swelling from all of the rain we've been getting. I can hear it rushing faster behind the trees."

"You've learned some things from the farm girl," she replied, and his heart grew a size fuller at the love he heard in her voice.

"I've learned a great _many_ things from the farm girl," he murmured.

His voice was thick with emotion, and Elsie turned in his arms, concerned. "Charlie?"

He looked down into her eyes, noting the added silver tones to what used to be vibrant, nearly violet blue. "Oh, don't mind me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Surely you jest. Are you all right?"

He bent down and pulled her close, and as her hand crept up behind his neck and he felt her pull him closer still, his tears spilled out onto her cheeks. Neither were deterred, however, and the moisture became trapped between their faces as she kissed him soundly, passionately, gasping when he opened his mouth against hers and she felt his tongue brush against her own.

They pulled apart, slightly breathless.

"I am more in love with you now, today, in _this moment,_ than I have ever been before," he breathed. "And I feel every day that the feeling cannot possibly grow any more, and each night I'm proven wrong once again. I love you so much, my darling. You have no idea."

"Och, Charlie," she whispered in tearful reply, "I think I _do._ "

She reached her hands down and grasped his bottom. Their passion had ebbed over the years, but sometimes it found ways to reappear in full force.

"Bedtime?" His switch from deep, emotional display to boyish eagerness happened in the blink of an eye, and watching the transformation play out over his features made her laugh.

"Why, Mr. Carson … I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
